Purgatio Mali
by SilverRiv
Summary: Days later he would still ask himself what had made him let go. "Maybe now you'll see." Ancient spells and smart witches be darned. Dramione, 6th year, Canon-compatible. Rated M for language and possible scenes. Multi-chapter. Thank you for reviewing, it makes my days better.
1. Whispered Incantations

Purgatio Mali

 _Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling. Unfortunately *sigh*_

* * *

"Oppugno!"

He heard the shriek come from further down the corridor. After a moment, a flash of bushy brown hair hurried past his alcove as someone was shouting over the loud twittering of birds. Two seconds later, the Weasel ran by, followed by a murderous flock of little yellow birds, and the Pothead chasing after them, trying to get the tiny beasts to stop. Needless to say, he was failing. For a brief moment, a semblance of a smirk tugged at a corner of Draco's mouth. The moment passed too quickly.

It was quiet again. Well, as quiet as an old castle could be following a Quidditch match. Every now and then, the sounds of a loud and quite raucous party drifted to his small hiding place and he'd surmised he was somewhere near the lions' den. Not that it particularly bothered him. Little seemed to bother him nowadays.

Which was what he was trying to concentrate upon again now. He still hadn't made any progress on the cabinet and after the necklace fiasco he'd been reduced to hiding in the Room of Requirements. Well, at least until the Room got too suffocating. Snape wasn't easy to avoid, but he figured his Professor would not wander too close to the Gryffindor Tower.

A new sound tore him out of his reverie. It wasn't the party, though. As he was trying to figure out what it was, it repeated. And then again. Someone was sobbing nearby.

Draco's brow furrowed. So much for peace then, he thought furiously as he slid out of the alcove and started off down the corridor, intending to find a better spot. Just one step, though, and his unconventionally sluggish mind caught up to him. He knew who was sobbing up ahead. _Well, isn't this perfect,_ he thought, an actual smirk appearing on his face. Tired, granted, but still a smirk. This would maybe take his mind off … stuff. Or so he hoped.

Making sure to stay as quiet as possible, he tiptoed towards the door on the far left behind which the broken sounds were coming from. He stopped just behind the slightly ajar door, and chanced a quick peek.

The girl was sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest, her wild hair quivering with each sob that racked through her body. Draco felt his smirk widen as he went through all the possible reasons as to why the little Mudblood would be crying, and how exactly he could use this situation for his entertainment. And to think, just moments ago he had been wallowing in self-pity and thought nothing could save his day.

"Who's there?" came the sudden, slightly shaky question. Malfoy swore under his breath. Apparently he'd made some sound. Before he could even begin to think of some way to deal with the situation, though, the door slammed open. He flinched involuntarily and raised his eyes.

Hermione was pointing her wand straight at his chest. The scared look in her eyes immediately changed to disgust and fury as she saw who had been eavesdropping on her.

"What do _you_ want, ferret?" she spat out angrily, quickly wiping any evidence of tears away with her sleeve.

Cornered, Draco did the only thing he'd always done. He drew himself up to his full length and slowly sauntered into the room, like he hadn't just been caught red-handed.

"Well, I was just minding my own business, trying to figure out the best way to punish those Gryffindor imbeciles for winning today, but I think your birds already did the trick," he drawled, thinking fast. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, her wand following his movements from across the room.

"So, what happened? The Weasel caught you and Pothead making out or something?"

"That's none of your business! What are you even doing up here? Shouldn't you be in your slimy cave with the rest of your little snakes?" came the quick retort.

Malfoy smirked again and slowly stalked towards her. He could see the uncertainty mixed with anger and slight fear in her eyes, even though her wand hand never once wavered. _Oh, this is such a sweet moment_ , he thought to himself. _The Gryffindor Princess, alone and distraught._ It would be a small, but wonderful pleasure for him to spar with her tonight.

"Don't change the subject. Seeing as you are the one sobbing like a pathetic child here and not he, I would venture a guess and say _you_ caught him snogging someo-"

He knew he'd hit the nail on the head with that wild guess as the chair exploded mere inches beside him. Shielding his head from the splinters with one hand he quickly drew his wand with the other and pointed it towards the small girl, all semblance of a smirk gone now. She'd actually tried to curse him.

"A bit off your game now, eh? Or did you mean to hit the chair?" he shot towards Granger, now taking a predatory stance rather than simply walking. The second spell he deflected with a glance of his wrist, showing her she was not the only one who had already learned the unspoken incantations of most spells they knew.

"Shut up! Why are you here?!" Hermione was visibly trying to calm herself down so she could find a crack in his defence.

"Why wouldn't I be? Seeing the famous Mudblood getting turned down by a Weasley is the best entertainment out there."

"You slimy git! You really think that old insult will get you anywhere?" She was still shaken, though, but if it was because of the Mudblood insult, or the other part there, he wasn't quite sure yet.

"You didn't deny me. So he did turn you down, didn't he?" Draco asked with barely masked glee. Another tiny flinch from her confirmed it.

Hermione's mouth quivered only the tiniest bit. "It's still none of your business! Now get out of here or-"

"Or what? You'll send birdies flying after me as well?" he laughed.

She tried to sneak past another spell. Merlin, she'd gotten quick. But he was the second best student, after all. He was just as quick, if maybe not quite as clean with his spells. The nearby window shattered.

"Is that the best you can come up with, Mudblood? Honestly, I still don't see how you are the best of our class, even Weasley can hex better than that."

The insult was poor, completely false, and they both knew it. Still, bringing up the Weasel seemed to infuriate her even more and that's all he needed to know.

"Itsy bitsy Weasley, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-"

"Stupefy!"

"Protego. Merlin, this is boring." He had now reached a dangerous distance to the girl before him. The distance, where, if he were to reach out, he could just touch one of her curls which were currently almost crackling with ire. She stared him squarely in the eye, chest heaving from her elevated breathing. Something small inside him questioned if he should continue. He pushed it aside.

"I can see why he would dump you. I mean, it doesn't matter if I look at it from far or from here – there just isn't much to see," he drawled slowly, immensely enjoying the stabbing look of hurt she sent him. Her hand, finally, started to shake. He reached out suddenly, snaking his free hand around her fist and quickly pointing her wand away from him.

Hermione gasped at his quick reflexes and tried to pry her hand free. His grip was like steel.

"Let me go, now."

"Or what?"

"Let me go!"

"What will you do?" he squeezed a little harder, eliciting a gasp of pain from the girl. Still, she wouldn't let go of the wand, so he reached over and pried the wooden stick out of her small fist. He was only a millisecond late.

Her free hand had flown up and smacked him across his jaw, hard. Not an open-handed slap, mind you. A right proper left hook. It left him slightly dazed, but still holding onto her strong. Depositing both their wands into his back pocket, he quickly grabbed her other hand lest she try hitting him again. It was already bruising up, and he knew his face would be turning blue as well. He let some of his anger show as he backed her up against the wall.

"You already got your shot at hitting me. Third year. That was your only chance. Don't _ever_ try that again," he towered over her, a menacing look in his eyes.

"What do you want from me?" she stared back brazenly.

 _Nothing, really, just some amusement from this constant emptiness I keep feeling,_ would have been the proper answer. But for obvious reasons he couldn't answer her with that. Staring into her scared amber eyes he found himself thinking that what he'd said earlier on wasn't quite true. From this near, he found some quite interesting flecks of gold dancing in her -

 _Stop it!_ He shook his head slightly to get rid of the disturbing images that had started to crop up in his mind.

"What I want? Simply put, I want to see you in as much misery as possible. And this is already looking very amusing."

Granger's eyes filled with tears but stubbornly she tried to keep them from falling.

"Come now, _Mudblood_ ," he crooned almost lovingly. "Admit it. This is where you belong. Underneath me."

Her eyes widened, and she started to struggle against him. For some reason, her small wriggling body started affecting his own in ways that were too wrong to think about.

"Let go of me, you bastard! Is this some sick fantasy of yours? Get the _Mudblood_ -" she spit out the word venomously, "cornered and then live out your twisted dreams?" She was still trying to break out of his grip but he was simply too strong.

Draco smirked, an evil glint in his stormy grey eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself. You're nothing but a pathetic, little child with dirty blood to me. No one would want anything to do with you, and thank Merlin for that. No need for your filthy offspring in the world."

At that she went still. Too still. He glanced down.

* * *

Days later he would still ask himself what had made him let go. At some point he finally guessed it was the empty look in her usually firey eyes that mirrored his own emptiness so perfectly. He'd let go of her hands as she just stood there, slightly stooped against the wall, only staring at him, or rather through him with that dead look. He'd turned to go, shaken, only to find himself propelled forward through the blast of a spell. Sprawled on the ground, he'd quickly spun around to see Granger stalk toward him, both wands pointed at him, still looking completely devoid of any emotion. Through the pounding in his head he missed the whispered incantation.

The world went blind, as if he'd blacked out. A sharp pain started in the middle of his brain and slowly spread outwards. He could still sense her coming to a halt just beside him.

"Maybe now you'll see."

A minute later, as he gained his sight again, the room was empty. His wand lay discarded at his side.


	2. Barely-Formed Ideas

_Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to J.K. Rowling. Still *sigh *_

 _A/N: I borrowed some of her lines from the book 6, Chapter 15. No harm done, I hope. This chapter has canon stuff in it, just written from another point of view (either from Draco's or Hermione's). Not as exciting as the first chapter, I'm sure, but necessary for the story to develop properly. So please, bear with me._

* * *

Hermione was spending even more time than usual in the library. She had started avoiding the common room like the plague after that fateful evening, and since she had so much work to do no one questioned her almost incessant need to retreat to her quiet, dusty tomb.

Tonight was no exception. Harry had joined her in her usual corner and he'd just relayed Ron's latest defensive words.

"I honestly don't care what he seems to think what went on between me and Krum. It's my business, and mine only," she was whispering as she rolled open a fresh parchment and started with her newest Arithmancy essay.

Harry stayed quiet, as he had been doing most of the time. It didn't particularly bother her, she figured he was trying his best to stay friends with both of them so he kept his mouth shut. She was thankful for that, she'd had more than her share of insults, apologies and half-hearted arguments. Concentrating on her essay, the next half hour was spent in relative quiet, only both of their quills scratching the parchment.

A small sound made her look up. Harry was concentrating on deciphering something from that nasty Potions book so he didn't seem to notice, but she thought she'd caught a flash of blonde disappear behind a bookcase a couple rows on. It went by so fast she thought it was only the flash of a lantern or some such illusion in her eyes. Shaking her head, she returned to her essay.

Her thoughts, however, became muddled as the sudden image of Malfoy sprawled before her on the ground tore it's way to the foreground. Her grip tightened around the quill as she remembered the whispered words she'd sent his way. She wasn't quite sure what the spell had done (for the first time in her life, mind you!) and she'd tried looking it up more, but hadn't found anything as of yet.

She'd come upon it in an old book written by some obscure wizard from the 12th century a day before the Quidditch match. All the description had said was "cleanse thy enemys by schowing them the druth". What that vile excuse for a wizard had said to her during their confrontation had stabbed her directly in the heart. Something had taken her over as she cast the first spell floating in her mind. Never before had Hermione Jean Granger cast a spell she didn't know the consequences of. Even if it was on Draco "The Amazing Bouncing Ferret" Malfoy.

She felt just the slightest bit of guilt. Might be that it didn't even work. But she'd felt a significant drain on her energy right after the spell had left her wand, and so she was quite sure it _had_ worked. For most of the time, however, Malfoy seemed just as usual, if not a bit more tired. Harry had his own theory about that, but she'd dismissed it as nonsense. She wasn't sure if Malfoy was quite as evil as her two- well, now one best friend thought. Taking the Dark Mark... she couldn't quite believe in that yet.

* * *

Draco hoped against hope she hadn't seen him. What was he even doing, stalking her again like that? Not like the last time wasn't a painful reminder to stay far, far away from the girl. But need for new inspiration had drawn him to the huge hall of tomes, trying to find some literature upon broken magical items.

The Cabinet was just as stubborn as it had always been, he was no closer to finding a way to kill Dumbledore, with every passing moment he was afraid his parents would be punished the worse for his failures, and in addition to all that he'd developed a nasty little headache which only seemed to dissipate a little whenever he laid eyes on the insufferable know-it-all. Whatever that spell was she'd done, it didn't seem to have worked, so he'd pushed it out of his mind.

Stalking between the rows, his thoughts kept returning to that evening. He'd tried really hard to forget, but seeing your own emptiness mirrored in someone else's eyes had had a deep impact on the blonde Slytherin. The way she'd slowly walked towards him... Her eyes haunted his dreams now, besides the Cabinet and Dumbledore. Why he couldn't get rid of her, he didn't understand.

"-you need to be careful."

Draco's ears perked up at the sound of her voice. Since she'd been sitting with the Boy Wonder he guessed she was talking to him. Interested in what he could be up to, he strolled casually closer between the rows.

"-so-called Prince. I'm talking about earlier. I went into the girls' bathroom-" the rest of the sentence was drowned out by Madam Pince brushing past him, giving him a nasty look for idling between the books. He grabbed a bind and made a face as if he was studying it, deep in thought; in reality he was only waiting for the old hag to continue her rounds.

"They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work-"

"Why didn't you confiscate them?" Scarhead's voice interrupted her tirade. Malfoy scoffed silently. Obviously the girls wouldn't have the potions with them. Granger's next sentence confirmed it.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom. They were just discussing tactics."

Malfoy wasn't particularly interested in Pothead's love life, so he put the random book back on it's shelf, and continued his rounds, though making sure he could still hear her voice. For some freaky reason, it soothed his pounding headache just a bit.

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business."

He smirked again. He had half a mind to find that Vane girl and give her some pointers in how to get Potter to drink something from her.

"Hang on a moment, I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?" Her voice seemed distracted.

"But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?"

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," Granger answered. "It's part of their Owl Order Service."

"You know a lot about it." Draco almost snorted at that. Imagine Granger, dealing in love potions. The image almost made him laugh. Almost. He barely heard most of the following, moving away from them so he could get into the row behind them. Hearing his name, though, made him walk a bit faster.

"-why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school - ?"

"Oh, Harry... not that again..."

"Come on, why not?"

"Look, Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register - and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous -"

 _Easy for her to say that,_ Draco thought at precisely the same moment Potter mumbled his thought aloud. Frowning at a thought that occurred right after that, he leaned in closer-

"- so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn't a cough potion and he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from -"

\- and again, he'd made some noise without meaning to. Granger's voice had stopped in the middle of the sentence. Peeking from behind some books, he could barely make out her and Potter, looking almost exactly at where he was hiding. Thank Merlin for Madam Pince appearing moments later at their table. He replaced his quickly drawn wand, breathing out slowly as he listened to the batty old librarian hissing at Potter. Just his luck to almost get exposed again...

What Granger had said, though... Filch was just an old squib, he definitely wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a normal drink and a, say, poisoned one. As the idea formed in Draco's mind, he smiled smugly to himself. The Mudblood _could_ be useful sometimes.

* * *

The next evening found Draco holed up in the Room again. He'd just sent instructions to Rosmerta concerning his latest idea, but after poring through countless pages of old, dusty, fragile books he'd found no solution to the problem currently towering over him. He stared at the closet with disgust, before noticing it was after curfew. If he were caught outside he'd have more unnecessary detention to deal with, which in turn would take away time spent here trying to fix this monstrosity. So, sighing, he replaced the books into his hiding place amongst all the other hidden things, dusted himself off, and slowly exited the room.

Deep in thought, he made his way towards the bottom of the castle. Turning a corner in the fourth corridor, he was shaken out of his thoughts when the wheezing sounds of Filch approached. Before he could hide, though, the squib lumbered around the far corner, almost jumping with glee as he noticed Draco sullenly staring at him.

"Aha! Student out of bed! Do you have permission to be lurking in the corridors this late at night?" Filch enquired, jowls quivering with barely-contained glee as he jogged closer.

Thinking lightning-fast, Draco searched his mind for some plausible reason to be out this late at night. Then, a sudden snippet of a song Peeves had sung earlier that day swam to the forefront of his mind: _Potty asked Loony to go to the party!_ And therein he found his answer.

"Well, as it happens I have been invited to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party and have simply been delayed with getting there. There's no harm in going to a party, is there now?" he lied smoothly. That didn't faze Filch.

"Oh, we'll see about that! Come with me, boy!"

"Where are we going?" Draco refused to budge.

Filch leaned in and grabbed him by the ear. Draco flinched, getting a too good a look up his captor's widened nostrils.

"We're going to your "party", and if I catch you lying about this, oh, the things I will do with you in detention..." the old man trailed away, dragging the taller boy by his ear towards Slughorn's distant office.

* * *

Hermione squeezed herself through the throngs of people at the party. It was becoming harder to avoid McLaggen the further the party went on, and so she toyed with the idea of leaving for good. Just as she'd decided upon calling it a night and started moving towards the door, a commotion from the middle of the room made her look that way.

A quite a strange gaggle of people stood together. Luna and Trelawney, who both seemed deep in conversation didn't notice how Filch had just dragged none other than Draco Malfoy to Harry, Slughorn and Snape. When Harry looked simply happily bewildered and Slughorn jovial, Draco was looking very unhappy, instead of his usual air of boredom. Snape was staring at Draco, though she couldn't quite see his facial expression. From the tension in his shoulders, though, it didn't seem her Potions Professor was particularly happy at seeing his favourite student there.

She wanted to move closer to hear the conversation, but exactly then someone decided to clap a huge hand on her shoulder.

"There you are! I've been searching for you all night!"

With an inner sigh and a roll of her eyes, Hermione turned around to see McLaggen's extremely annoying smile. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder.

"Yes, sorry, I've just been conversing with so many interesting people here! I do feel quite tired already, though, so I was just about to leave for the Gryffindor Tower. You're welcome to stay, though! Have fun!" She was quickly coming up with excuses as she tried to shimmy past him and toward the door. Cormac wasn't having any of that.

"Well, if you want to go, I'll go with you. It's not safe walking around the corridors alone at this time, anyway," he gallantly proffered his elbow towards her, almost knocking it into her ribcage.

"No, really, it's no problem, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," she crooned sweetly, trying her hardest not to puke.

"Please, I _insist_." Cormac was still standing there, elbow hanging out, smiling towards her like a puppy.

Seeing no other way out, she testily put her arm on his and let him lead her out the door and into the dark corridors.

After a few moments of him recounting his latest wonderfully difficult catches on the Quidditch field and Hermione's mind working overtime, trying to find a way out of this situation, McLaggen suddenly stopped. She was so immersed in her thoughts she barely noticed it and almost fell because of it. Always the unneeded gentleman, McLaggen helped her recover her feet and then pointed towards the ceiling.

 _Not again,_ Hermione almost screeched out as she saw the mistletoe dangling from the high beam. She'd barely escaped last time before the party, and only thanks to other people being close by. This time, though, the corridor was deserted. Swallowing hard, she peeked up at McLaggen, thinking how quickly she could reach her wand in her purse.

"Hermione, I -" he started, looking slightly uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he continued: "Well, I... I really like you, you know. And... I know you've been avoiding me tonight, but I really don't know why when you invited me to this thing yourself."

She was trying her hardest not to roll her eyes whilst furtively feeling around in her purse behind her back.

"Listen, Cormac, I-"

"Shhh, no, wait. Let me finish. I really don't care for being made a fool out of, though. You invited me here. It's obvious you saw something in me. So, I'm going to try my hardest to make you see that something again."

And without a warning he pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione's eyes went wide with fear as she tried to push the tall boy away, but he instead wrapped his arms around her, squeezing all the breath out of her lungs. Her mouth involuntarily opened and McLaggen used that as an invitation to explore further. She kept struggling against him, trying to reach her wand.

A moment later McLaggen jumped back with a cry of pain. She'd bitten his lip, hard. His eyes darkened as he gently dabbed at the small cut, an evil grin appearing on his face.

"Oh, so this is how you play, little witch? You want rough, I'll give you ro-" he couldn't end his sentence, though, because at that precise moment Hermione had _finally_ gotten her wand out of that blasted purse and sent him flying towards the nearest wall.

"Don't ever touch me again, you filthy bastard!" she spat at him as he slumped down, apparently knocked out.

"Oh my, and I thought I was the only one deserving of those insults," a very familiar voice drawled.

 _Uh oh_ , Hermione thought, whirling around.


	3. Screaming Mistletoes

_Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to the one, the only, the Queen, J.K. Rowling._

* * *

 _That blasted Snape!_ The blonde wizard was cursing furiously in his mind as he hurried away from the classroom. _Always sticking his greasy nose in other people's business! As if I didn't have enough on my plate..._

To be honest, Draco had known Snape for a long time, longer than from Hogwarts. The Professor had been a regular guest at their house when he was still a spoiled child, clueless to the darkness of the world around him. Back then, he'd enjoyed his visits, because it brought some change into the tedious programme of being a rich, pureblooded, home-schooled kid. Plus, the dark-haired man had seemed fond of him and always brought him a new book, some magical item, or simply a word of advice.

But now, he had only become an irritation. An Unbreakable Vow, really?! If he actually had been daft enough to make this promise to his mother, Draco figured it was his neck on the line. The older man couldn't help him. No one could. This was his mission, and his alone. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. The outcome was bleak no matter how he looked at it, and even his earlier plan now seemed like something even a child could come up with. Anything could go wrong. He couldn't take it back, though. Rosmerta already had her instructions...

Bloody hell! This evening just wasn't going to get better, was it? First Filch, then Snape. He felt like hitting something.

Sharp pain spread out from his knuckles, bruised and partly broken. The wall seemed no worse for it, which only made him growl and feel even shittier than before. _What a brilliant idea, Draco, really. Wonderful, just bloody fucking wonderful,_ he grumbled incoherently, examining the damage he'd made. A few simple healing spells later, the skin had grown back together and the blood was gone, but his hand still hurt. As did his head. As per usual.

A sudden scuffle from up ahead made him look up. There was a bend in the corridor and he couldn't see who or what it was. He quickly sneaked closer.

A silent swear left his lips as he took in the unfortunate mistletoe scene before him. It really did seem as if he stalked her. Curiously, he watched the event play out, smirking when McDouche got bit _and_ smashed into the wall. Unable to keep his comments to himself, he opened his mouth.

* * *

Malfoy lounged against the wall a few feet away, seemingly at ease. His complexion was even paler than usual, though, and dark circles were surrounding his grey eyes. Hermione took all that in whilst trying to figure out why he'd followed her. Again.

"Honestly, ferret, are you trying to get yourself hurt? Didn't last time teach you a lesson on not to sneak up on me?" she sneered at the still leisurely boy.

"Well, since the only thing I got last time was a slightly annoying headache, I would surmise your big show there didn't really have the expected effect," he answered languidly, pushing himself off the wall and slowly stalking towards her. A strange sense of deja vu hit both of them as he neared her.

"Stop right there. Don't you even _dare_ try the same trick as last time!" The witch took several steps backwards, loathe to give ground before the hulking blonde, but she had to stay out of his reach.

Draco smirked a bit. He was apparently enjoying this again, though what he could possibly want with her after his last remarks she didn't even begin to fathom.

"Trick? Me, tricking the _cleverest witch of our time_?" he leered at her, pronouncing her unofficial title as if it were an insult in itself. Hermione huffed, but didn't say anything. She was still trying to come up with an explanation as to why he was there.

"So, what _are_ you doing here anyway?" She decided to change her tactics by changing her tone from accusing to merely conversing, as if they were in a classroom discussing the next transfiguration essay. She also changed her stance, opting for a slightly more relaxed pose, her wand hanging beside her.

Draco looked visibly shocked at her sudden change. He stopped stalking towards her, and instead crossed his arms before him, brow furrowing.

"I thought I heard some commotion, so I decided to take a gander," he answered in a similar tone, trying to figure out what the witch was suddenly playing at.

"Ah yes, my gallant rescuer from the ugly mountain troll," she giggled in a very non-Hermione way, inwardly cringing at herself. "Well, looks like you were just a bit too late to save the damsel in distress."

"Like I would ever think of saving you, _Mudblood_ ," he scoffed, trying to bring back some normalcy into this sudden farce. "I'd rather watch him rape you than ever help you out."

The sudden intake of breath betrayed her. Her body stiffened and she raised her wand slightly. He smirked again.

"I refuse to stand here and let myself be insulted by the likes of _you_."

"Well, then, why are you still here?"

Fair question, that. Since her way to the Gryffindor Tower led right past him, she took a deep breath before starting towards him. He stayed where he was, hands crossed, and watched her draw nearer, that blasted sneer still plastered onto his alabaster face.

As she was about to pass him, alert to any sudden movements, his hand shot out. Her reaction didn't fail her. Malfoy flew against the wall rather like McLaggen had earlier on, but didn't seem to lose consciousness. Her next spell froze on her lips as she saw his eyes. The pain that made them glass over was not one she had expected.

* * *

The distant scream had made him jerk out, involuntarily trying to hold her back from going towards it. Something told him she shouldn't investigate. Even moments later, slumped on the floor and watching shiny flecks dance around in his field of vision, he didn't quite understand why she wasn't looking around, trying to discern the direction the screams were coming from, running to the rescue as the little brave lioness she was. Not that he could understand why he even cared, either.

Instead she was looking at him curiously, the tip of her wand still slightly glowing from the held-back curse she'd been about to release. He made no effort to stand, still battling the stars dancing before his eyes. Instead, he tried to understand if the screams were coming closer or getting more distant. It wasn't a sound often heard in Hogwarts. The girl, because it was a female voice, kept begging for someone to stop, interlacing them with screeches of pain and heaving sobs. It scratched his ears and spoke to his soul. It was the kind of pain you would never wish to experience yourself, the kind of pain that tore apart everything you were, leaving you naked and bleeding.

He slowly turned his head to look straight into Granger's eyes.

"What are you still doing here?" he mumbled, confused as to why the Gryffindor hadn't run to help the other girl already.

"Making sure you're okay?" she huffed indignantly. "Honestly, Malfoy, I had no intention of hurting you, but you just had to try again, didn't you? Learn you lessons and stay away from me."

"Someone is screaming their lungs out, obviously being tortured, and you are more concerned for my well-being?" he asked, amazed. "Well, I guess the devil will be needing those ice-skates after all."

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"No one is screaming, what are you talking about?" she asked, staring at him. "I think you might have a concussion, let me see- "

"Stay away from me, mudblood!" He tried to scoot away but moving his head that fast caused another dizzy spell. The girl took advantage of it, gingerly dropping to her knees beside him.

"Stay still," she ordered, as she inspected the back of his head. Still recovering from the latest batch of stars, he had nothing else to do but surrender to her warm touch. As a matter of fact, as soon as her hands touched his ice cold skin, the screaming stopped and some of his headache dissipated. His eyes fluttered closed, suddenly feeling more relieved than he'd felt in weeks.

"Well, you have quite a nasty bump here," she gingerly grazed over the spot with her fingers, "but nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix-"

Malfoy's eyes shot open. "No! No Pomfrey. Just..." he couldn't believe he was about to _ask_ her this, "can you just heal it yourself so we both can be on our way that much earlier?"

Hermione sat back, stunned. Draco Malfoy, her arch enemy and the school bully had just civilly asked her to help him. Talk about shock.

"Why don't you want to go to the School Nurse?" she narrowed her eyes at him.

"That is none of your business. Now get on with it," he snapped, cringing as another dizzy spell accompanied by a fresh wave of pain shot through his head. The distant screaming had started again, albeit more quietly.

"Not until you say please." Granger looked very pleased with herself.

"I'm not going to beg you for it!"

"Very well, then the Nurse's Office it is," the young woman announced, starting to get up. Draco's hand shot out and caught her by the calf. She flinched at his touch, but turned to look at him.

"Wait." He sighed. "I- " Another sigh. "Alright then, bloody hell... Please, would you heal me so we can both forget this ever happened and continue hating each other as per usual?" he rattled off quickly, embarrassed down to his bones and almost feeling Grandpa Malfoy turning around in his grave.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" she smugly answered, lowering herself down again. Taking his head back between her small hands she turned it, being surprisingly gentle, and then pointed her wand at the bump. Draco first felt a hot, then a cool sensation at the back of his head, and then he could see clearly again. Brushing her hands off brusquely, he quickly stood. He wanted nothing more than to turn his back and march off, but something was holding him rooted down.

Granger rose from the ground as well, looking as embarrassed as he felt, brushing dust off her dress. She stared at him with that curious look again. Why wasn't she leaving? Why wasn't he leaving?

"Well.. um.. thanks, I guess," he mumbled slightly incoherently, beating himself up for even letting the words fall from his mouth.

"You- um, you're welcome," the hesitant answer came.

They still had yet to move from the spot. A part of his brain was screaming at his nervous system to _move_ , walk, run, do anything, just get away from her. Another part, though, was holding him in place, his eyes transfixed on hers. Those golden flecks were dancing in them again, and he was being mesmerized by the way they seemed to glow in the dim light. If only he were closer to see them better-

A groan from behind them snapped him out of his trance. Fiercely shaking his head, he spared the girl in front of him just one more disgusted glance before quickly taking off in the opposite direction.

* * *

 _A/N: If anything feels awkward, off or just out of character, please let me know! I'm trying to do both characters justice here and especially trying to keep them as in character as possible. For some reason I find writing Draco's PoV much easier than Hermione's. And I'm a girl who has also been bullied back in school. Who would've thought?_

 _Let me know which PoV you would like to see more of, and also any constructive critique is more than welcome. ^^_


	4. Shitty Day

_Disclaimer: I still don't, and probably never will, own the characters or settings within this fic. J.K. Rowling owns them all._

 _A/N: I have a small thing on my mind for all my readers out there: I am not a consistent updater. If I get the inspiration, I might bring out 3-5 chapters per week. If not, it may take months for me to update. I will not make myself update regularly, because I simply feel it would diminish the quality of the fic immensely if I had to push myself to bring out regular chapters. I'd rather just let the story flow in it's own pace. I know many of you hate this, but if you like the fic, just try to bear with everyone here. =3_

 _Also, as I already stated in the last chapter, I somehow manage to write Draco's PoV better than Hermione's. Maybe it'll change once I get more into the story, but I feel like writing more from his PoV for now will help bring the story along faster and please don't hate me if you don't see quite enough of the two interacting. I'm trying to keep it as canon-compatible as possible for as long as I can, and in the books we never did see those two interacting much... though, well, Harry was kind of focused on his stuff and not really noticing what Hermione was doing *smiles evilly and thinks naughty thoughts*_

 _So, and now I am really sorry for this long Author's Note, so forgive me and go enjoy! =3_

* * *

"Are you even listening to me?" Irritation oozed out of the whiny voice.

Draco was brought out of his usual reveries to find himself at the Slytherin table. It was breakfast, apparently. How he'd gotten there he wasn't quite sure of, but that was nothing new to him. His mind was a deep abyss trying to suck every piece of him into that looming black hole every minute of every day, so it was a miracle he even managed to get through the days. His fellow snakes had obviously noticed his "absence" from their usual conversations, but as per usual of the Slytherin House, they gave him his space and continued without him, instead of trying to annoyingly find out what was going on, which they would've done, had they been in Gryffindor or any other House, really. He was at least thankful for that, though Pansy's tries to include him in the conversation every now and again still annoyed him to no end. Why wouldn't the girl _ever_ shut up?!

"Pans, I'm really not in the mood right now-" he started.

"You're never in the mood! I barely see you any more, you have become like a ghost in the Common Room, and you never talk to anyone! What is going on? Why won't you tell me?"

Those bloody damned questions again! Why couldn't she just understand that he couldn't tell her anything? It was more than fucking enough that he and his whole family was under the mercy of that cold snake residing in _their_ home, he couldn't bring his best friends and once-girlfriend into this either. So that only left being cold and distant towards everyone he cared about in hopes of pushing them away from him. He was dangerous. No, association with him was now dangerous. Of course, the children of Death Eaters knew how that life went. But most were still fairly happy to finish school and join the Dark Side as soon as they were done. They didn't know the reality. Not as well as he did. Draco sighed, hating himself for what he was about to do.

"Fuck off, alright? It's my bloody life, you don't have a fuckin' say in what I do or how I act. So care to leave me be?" he rolled his eyes, pushed back from the table and stood to leave. He glanced just once more at the black-haired witch. Pansy stared back hatefully, trying her hardest to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. Slytherins weren't that big on public displays of emotion, after all.

"Yeah, you know what, Mr. Fuck Off? You can bloody fuck off yourself then. Honestly, I'm only trying to help you here but you know what? At some point I've had enough as well."

And before he could do anything, she'd stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving a few students staring towards where she'd disappeared. It wasn't every day you saw a Snake run out of the Hall, clearly upset. Deprived of anything to look at, though, the eyes were now starting to turn towards Draco. Coughing lightly, he straightened his back and walked out of the Hall as well, though at a more dignified pace. Little did he know there was one pair of eyes that had seen the short argument in it's entirety, and watched him leaving with curiosity etched in them.

* * *

Arithmancy was dragging on with excruciating slowness. At least he didn't have to bear the venomous and hurt looks from Parkinson since she wasn't taking this Advanced class. One small ray of light in his extremely bleak morning. Not that it was a particularly happy ray. More like a misty, grey light filtering through a dirty, stained, broken window. Huh... since when had he become so bloody poetic?

He raised his sullen eyes to stare at Professor Vector, not really seeing her. Instead, his mind kept dragging him back, back to the darkness, back to the misery, to the constant pain and fear of more. Christmas at home hadn't been quite as, well, merry, as one would think.

* * *

" _Crucio_!"

6? Or was it 7? Draco couldn't keep up any more. He'd fallen on his knees, but barely even felt the floor underneath him. It was all he could do to keep from screaming, but was unsure if he even had a voice to sound out should he open his mouth. As if through a long tunnel he heard the muted sobs of his mother. He dared not look in her direction, lest he direct the anger upon her. He would endure anything if it meant keeping the weeping blonde woman out of harm's way. And endure he did.

Hours later, he lay in bed, body still trembling from the aftershocks of the torture. Obviously the Dark Lord was displeased. He'd had no apparent success in repairing the Cabinet, nor was Dumbledore dead. Half his time was gone and he'd come no closer to any of his goals than he had been on the 1st of September. He remembered the day as if through a haze. Still so cocky, so eloquent and full of pride. What an idiotic prick he was. Of course he'd known what the price was. It wasn't as if he'd had a choice, though. But thinking it would be easy, done in a week or two... he scoffed, and then cringed as a spasm of pain shot through his chest. Groaning, he slowly opened his eyes to find the room dark. How long had he lain there?

* * *

"Please eat something," Narcissa coaxed his son. He simply shook his head and continued to stare out the window.

"Draco..."

"Don't. Just... leave me be, mother."

Silence. He turned around, making the mistake of looking into her eyes. The pain he saw in there, the pain not from being tortured herself, but instead directed towards him, made him falter. Narcissa took her chance and enveloped him in a hug, being careful not to hurt him any further. Draco stiffened at the touch, but a moment later relaxed into the small arms circling him. It was the only touch he could bear these days. Closing his eyes, he sighed into the crook of her neck.

"I'm sorry, mother," he mumbled. "I just... I can't stomach anything, alright?"

His mother nodded against his back, then released him with a sigh.

"At least drink some tea, then. I'll have Misty prepare some for you."

He nodded slowly, then turned back to gazing out the window.

A minute later, the door closed behind him quietly.

* * *

A harsh nudge jolted him out of his nightmare. Covered in sweat, he scrambled for his wand in the darkness, before realizing it was only Lucius who had woken him. Still, that did not do much to slow his racing heart. The wizard who was currently staring at him with very bloodshot eyes, the stank of Firewhiskey oozing from every pore, had been just as explosive and unpredictable as his Master. At one moment he would be cowering in a corner, begging for mercy, but at the next he would lash out at anyone who dared even look in his direction. Those moods usually fluctuated with the comings and goings of his said Master, though he had been quiet and sullen for the past two days, even without the Dark Lord anywhere in sight. But seeing him now, burning a ragged hole into Draco's chest with his eyes, the boy knew he would be in big trouble if he didn't find that thrice-damned wand _now_!

"Ssso," the drunken man slurred, wobbling slightly on his bare feet, pointing with a crooked finger at his son, "you still sleep here-" Hick! "peasssefully, whilst me and your m-mother have to-" another hiccup, "'ave to worry for our very lives. The bloody nerve of you!" He was now searching for his pwn wand, apparently having misplaced it. Raising his eyes, he came face to face with Draco's wand tip, inches from his face.

"Get out of my room," he spit out the words slowly and clearly. Not even in his state could the old man have mistaken the hatred coming from his son's voice.

"Now look here, _boy_ , this is still MY HOUSE!" Lucius yelled. "Don't presume to tell me, your _father_ , what I should or should not do!" Spittle flew from his mouth and Draco took a disgusted step back. Seeing his once immaculate and imposing father being reduced to this less-than-a-man wreckage would have shocked him once, but now he only felt sick looking at him. He had brought it upon himself, and had doomed his family, when he decided to join Voldemort's side in the first place. Draco had barely any love left for the man.

"You shall remove your disgusting drunken self from my room immediately." Draco kept his voice low, hoping his mother hadn't heard the yelling. She didn't need this on top of everything else.

"Disgusting?!" the screech tore through his ears and the corridor behind Lucius, making him flinch. There was no way she hadn't heard that, seeing as they all slept in the same wing, on the same floor. "HOW DARE YOU!" The wizard stumbled forward with surprising speed. Draco reacted just as quickly, and as the spots left from the bright flash of red before his eyes disappeared, he heard footsteps running towards his room. A moment later his mother appeared in the doorway, clapping a hand on her mouth as her wide eyes took in the scene before her.

Lucius was laying, unconscious, crumpled against the wall, with Draco still pointing a wand at him, chest heaving with barely-contained anger and disgust. This stupid bastard was the reason he was being tortured every other day over Christmas. He was the reason he had no friends any more. He was the only reason his son had had to take the Dark Mark. He, his utter incompetence and bloody stupid idea to sign up for all of this. The anger grew and fluctuated around his mind and body, clouding coherent thinking and making him see red. Without him, he would never have learned what Crucio felt like on his own skin. Without him, he would be going through school, happy, ignorant and at peace. Without that bastard, he and his mother would have a nice, torture-free life. Or at least, that was what he was telling himself.

Without noticing it, he had taken a few steps towards the man. His wand quivered in his hand, preparing to cast the only spell that had been ravaging his mind for days.

He'd also have gone through with it, had there not been those five small fingers gently closing around his wrist. He tore his eyes off his father and instead looked straight into the icy blue eyes of his mother. She flinched at the immense hatred in his stare, but otherwise remained unperturbed.

"Don't turn into one of them."

His anger evaporated as quickly as it had come, leaving him feel various shades of emptiness inside. He slowly lowered his wand, taking a seat on the edge of his four-poster to hide the fact that his feet were shaking too badly for him to stay up. His mother followed, still holding onto him. Draco sighed deeply, scared of his own reaction, and turned his head slightly to place it on Narcissa's shoulder.

"Did anyone else hear?"

"No. I placed this corridor under a silencing spell as soon as I noticed him making his way to your room."

"You weren't sleeping?" Draco frowned.

"I... I haven't been able to sleep properly for months now," his mother admitted quietly.

"You need to sleep, mother! At least one of us should come out of this with most of their senses still intact," he bit out rather harshly, and tried to turn it around once he realized that. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm simply tired and not thinki-"

"It's okay, Draco. I get it. But don't worry about me. You have more than enough on your plate as it is." She pulled his head back to her and slowly drew her hand through his ragged hair, as if willing through touch for him to calm down. Her quiet ministrations lulled him into a state of semi-wakefulness, in which he tried to make sense of his life that had gone so wrong. What had he done to deserve this?

The soft breaths and gentle hands of his mother soon made him doze off, as tired as he was from everything he'd had to endure.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy!"

The aforementioned young wizard flinched as if stung and stared wildly around. That earned him a few chuckles and a couple of concerned looks from his classmates as it registered on him that he'd been staring at the front of the class without seeing it for ten minutes at least.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you alright? You don't look too well, maybe a trip to the Hospital Wing would do you good?" Professor Vector asked, the slight concern notable in her voice.

"I'm fine," he spat, trying to look anywhere but at all the eyes now focused on him.

"Well, you don't look _fine_ , and neither are you following my current course, so I more than suggest you go and get something for that from Madam Pomfrey!" she now said quite sharply. Grumbling, Draco stuffed his unopened book and parchment back into his bag, shoved his chair away and stomped out of the classroom. So much for staying on the low and not making any scenes.

He had no intention of going to the insufferably nosy Nurse, though. He'd been trying his hardest to stay away from the Hospital Wing ever since the Mark, scared she might find it and alert Dumbledore, which was the last thing on Earth he needed happening.

The door to the deserted bathroom creaked loudly as he entered. Dropping his bag at one of the sinks, he leaned his hands on either side of the porcelain bowl and stared at himself from the cracked mirror.

His storm-grey eyes had sunk inside his skull a fair bit, surrounded by dark circles and completed with bags underneath them. His hair was just an inch away from covering his sight, and looked unkempt, unwashed and if he was honest, slightly like Snape's greasy locks. He shuddered, resolving to take a long bath and do something about that. He still prided himself for his looks in a tiny part of his mind, and actually seeing himself after weeks of not paying attention came as a bit of a shock for the boy.

He inhaled, and then released the long, shaky breath, ending with a barely there sob. The memories had brought back all the pain and suffering from Christmas break. He'd done a fairly good job of pushing them back when he returned to Hogwarts, but somehow they had found their way to the foreground today. He lowered himself to his knees as he remembered the bone-crushing hug his mother had given him right before he was about to depart, not knowing if he would ever see her again. She'd tried not to cry as the Dark Lord had been in the same room, sending him off with the clear, if not spoken, instruction of either returning with Dumbledore's head, so to speak, or with his own life forfeit. She had, however, secretly pushed a small box into his hands as she released him. The only Christmas gift he had gotten this year.

An actual sob tore out of his throat as he stared at the tiny dragon resting on his palm, hanging from a thin silver chain. With his luck, this was to be the last gift he would ever receive from her.

Burying his head in his hands, he let go. Tears ran haphazard streaks down his face as sob after sob racked through his body. Everything he'd held in for weeks on end now came flooding out. He barely managed a silencing and locking spell on the room before he crumbled in on himself completely.

After what felt like hours, he slowly raised his red, swollen eyes, and regarded the room before him. In the furthest corner, the ghost of a girl with huge glasses sat, for once quiet, and watched him with a certain aura of sadness he knew only too well.

"Hell, Myrtle. Can you be any more sneaky?" Draco was slightly shocked by the ghost's unusual silence, but he'd known her for longer than he cared to admit and wasn't particularly surprised by her appearance. After all, he'd been coming to this bathroom quite regularly in the last months.

"Comes with being _dead_ ," she said mockingly, standing to float slowly towards him. "Wanna talk 'bout it?"

"Not really, no offence. Just the same old, really," he sniffed, drying his eyes on his sleeves. Why he felt so at ease with this particular ghost around, he could not say even if his life depended on it. It had, once, occurred to him that she had been a muggle-born when she was alive. For some reason, that failed to bother him as well. There was something about the way she acted around him that made him open up to her. Plus, she was a ghost. He couldn't endanger her in any way even if he wanted to.

"Well, I won't take any offence, if you just tell me. Maybe I can help," she stated.

"No, you can't. I mean, if you have a brilliant plan up your sleeve to knock that old fool of a headmaster out of the picture, do go ahead. But otherwise, there's no one who can help me, and you know that full well."

Myrtle simply stared at him through her thick milky glasses, knowing better than to say anything. They'd been through this often enough.

"Well, thanks again for not laughing this time," he mumbled, getting up from the floor and preparing to leave, hearing the bell ring through the ancient corridors of the old castle.

"You know I wouldn't laugh at you. I can understand what you are going through, alright? At least believe me on that!" she harrumphed, floating towards the nearest sink and sitting on it. "Will you come back to see me soon? It gets awful lonely in the pipes, you know..."

Draco snorted. "Yeah, I'll come by some time soon," he promised, hefting his bag onto one shoulder, and with a last look at the sullen ghost, he strode out of the lavatory.

* * *

 _A/N: A bit of a longer chapter, as a sorry for making you wait =3 I hope you like it, don't forget to review and tell me what you think! ^^_


End file.
